Here I am, at a lovely resort, hanging out in the pool in an inner tube with my BFF. As I flip over to ditch the tube and begin to emerge from the water, the BFF begins to laugh. Turns out the inner tube, likely made overseas, has spots on it in various colors. The backs of my calves are a violently violet purple. Apparently the dye used rubs off when wet. Funny, but I'm not going to let it ruin my afternoon. BFF and I continue to lounge for awhile, but soon I'm ready to head in for a shower.
Back in the room, I struggle mightily to extricate myself from my wet bathing suit without strangling myself in the straps. Done. A little winded, but done. Next I hop in the shower to rinse off. Oh, no, this is to be no easy task. The dye that was water-soluble when it got on my legs now requires very vigorous scrubbing with soap and a washcloth. With all the bending and stretching trying to scrub my fluffy body, I am now definitely short of breath.
Getting dressed, it now takes me at least three shots to get my legs through my panties. Next comes the bra, put on backwards as the fluffy body can't just reach back and do the hooks. Have you ever tried to wrangle the girls into a bra while still damp? Exhausting.
BFF returns from the pool and finds me sprawled on the bed, gasping for breath. Worriedly asking if I was okay, I really hesitated to answer, but I did: "I just took a shower."
